Season 6 Episode 1: No Stone Unturned (1 of 12)
by GrayCharacter16
Summary: Arthur deeply regrets sending Merlin away almost a year ago, after the Battle of Camlann. Mordred at his side, the king leaves Camelot in search of his friend. The one thing Arthur is sure of is that, no matter where he is, Merlin is alright; after all, he's more than capable of looking after himself. The king's conviction is misplaced, though; Merlin is in fact far from alright...
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS IS A FOLLOW-UP TO THE ALTERNATE ENDING I WROTE FOR SEASON 5 EPISODE 13. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT YET, DON'T READ THIS, BECAUSE YOU WON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT'S GOING ON.**

**Here's a link to my alternate S5:E13 - s/10568694/1/The-Diamond-of-the-Day-Part-2-Alternate-ending **

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**SEASON 6  
Episode 1  
**No Stone Unturned

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Arthur Pendragon, sovereign of Camelot, stared pensively out the window at the activity in the courtyard below. A few of his knights had ridden in from a patrol and were joshing each other roughly as they handed their horses over to servants and headed for the stairs. As he watched, Percival, one of the knights, caught another about the neck with one meaty arm and wrestled him around with a huge smirk. Gwaine, the smaller man, hooked one foot under Percival's knee and jerked it from beneath him, throwing the huge knight off balance and twisting free of his grip with a triumphant laugh. Behind them, the youngest of the group, Mordred, shared an amused grin with Leon, the captain of the guard.

The king turned away from the window with a moody sigh to see his wife standing in the doorway, watching him silently. He frowned. "How long have you been here?"

"A while." Guinevere answered. She moved closer, pressing, "Arthur, you haven't been yourself."

"What do you mean by that?" He questioned sullenly.

"For weeks – for months, Arthur – you look sad sometimes, when you think nobody's watching you." She took his hand. "What's troubling you?"

He shifted, still not looking at her. She prompted, "You've been like this for almost a year – ever since Merlin left."

That made him glance up. After a pause, he slumped back against the wall. "Did you know that I met Merlin ten years ago yesterday?"

"I remember." She smiled. "You put him in the stocks."

"He made me look like an idiot." A wistful grin tugged at the corner of Arthur's mouth.

She waited for a minute before asking softly, "Are you ready for him to come back?"

The king sighed. "I've wanted him to come back ever since I sent him away."

"I know. But that's not what I asked."

He glanced at her again, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"When Merlin left, he told me to tell you to find him when you were ready to trust him again." Gwen placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Maybe it's time you went to find him."

She was startled as Arthur seemed to light up suddenly. He pushed away from the wall and strode toward the door; it was obvious that he knew exactly what he was going to do. Over his shoulder, he asked, "Where is he?"

"I don't know." She admitted.

That stopped him again. He turned around, telling her in an intense voice, "I've been talking to Gaius a lot lately."

She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. He paced restlessly. "Merlin did so much for us, Guinevere. He did so much more than I imagined even after I found out he had magic. And he never asked for anything back. And after all that, I threw him out!"

"He offered to leave." The queen pointed out gently.

"That's just one more thing he did for me." Arthur scowled. "He gave me an easy way out of the problem."

"So are you going to go find him?" Gwen prodded. A grin spread across Arthur's face; that was all the answer she needed. "Where will you look?"

"High and low!" In an uncharacteristic display of spirit, he swept her up and swung her around. "There'll be no stone unturned in all the five kingdoms by the time I'm done, Gwen!"

As he set her down on the edge of the table, she questioned, "What will you tell your men?"

He paused, thinking. When his servant had left ten months ago, Arthur had told his knights he had finally granted Merlin a holiday and the boy was going to visit his mother in Ealdor. Every once and a while since then, someone would ask when on Earth Merlin would get back; Arthur would always reply with a noncommittal "I told him to take as long as he wanted." Only Gaius, Gwen, Mordred and the king himself knew the truth.

"I'll tell them the lazy idiot has been on holiday _far_ longer than he deserves and I'm going to get him and haul him back by the ear." Arthur shrugged as though that were the obvious answer. "I'll take Mordred with me. We'll try Ealdor; that's where I'd have gone if I were him."

Gwen decided not to point out that Arthur and Merlin could not be more different. With a careless gesture, her husband finished, "If he's not there we'll just look till we find him."

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So, I'm not thrilled about how this part turned out. It just doesn't feel right somehow. What do you think? Did it seem off to you? Maybe Arthur's not in character...

Update coming soon. Please review, even if I've already posted more when you read this, or even if you don't have anything to say. I'd just appreciate knowing you read it. :D Thanks guys!


	2. Chapter 2

No Merlin was to be found in Ealdor; he had visited briefly five months ago, and that was all that had been seen of him. Although his servant really could have been anywhere in the entire world, Arthur thought he was most likely somewhere in Camelot; if he'd told Gwen to send Arthur looking for him, he'd stay somewhere the king could find him without starting a war.

Several days' ride, stopping at every town, settlement and outlying farmhouse they passed, brought Arthur and Mordred no success. Funny enough, nobody remembered whether they'd seen a scrawny young man with black hair sometime in the past ten months.

In the early morning of the thirteenth day of their search, Arthur reined his horse in unexpectedly. They were in the middle of nowhere, miles from the nearest settlement, traveling along a worn-down dirt road with a river to their left and woods to their right.

Mordred waited while Arthur sat silently in the saddle, staring into the trees. After a moment of this, though, the young knight urged his horse up alongside Arthur's. "What is it, sire?"

"Do you hear something?" The king murmured.

Both listened without success for a moment. Then Mordred caught the noise Arthur had noticed. "I think I hear it."

"Let's go, then." Arthur spurred his horse into the trees, galloping in the direction of the sound of people shouting hoarsely.

They reached the top of a long, wooded slope. Along the bottom of the slope ran another road, wider than the one they had been traveling on but less well-trodden. A wagon train had drawn up not far from Arthur and Mordred, and it looked like the travelers had not yet broken camp. A group of people were sitting on the ground behind one of the wagons, while the rest had clustered around an open stretch of the road a little ways away from the wagons.

It took a moment for Arthur to figure out what was going on. Most of the people standing away from the wagons were ruffian-looking thugs, but scattered among them were haggard men, women and children. All were watching a scene playing out at the center of the ring they formed. Here, a couple of the thugs were thrashing what could only be another person, though it was impossible to be sure given that all that the two warriors could make out was a crumpled, raggedy, muddy heap on the ground, hardly moving when one man's whip laid open his back or the other's boot slammed brutally into his side.

When Arthur didn't move immediately, Mordred prompted, "Sire, aren't we going to help him? Or her," He added as an afterthought. "Or . . . whatever that is."

"We'd better." The king nodded. "There are too many of them for us to take them on, though, so we'll scatter them with the horses and be out of there before they can rally and retaliate."

Mordred nodded. The two urged their horses to full speed and tore down the slope toward the cluster of people on the road. They were nearly upon them before they were noticed; the motley group scattered frantically as the two massive horses stampeded through them.

Arthur reined to a spinning, snorting, stamping halt beside the ruffians' victim. Thanks to the lack of tunic and the shaggy, unkempt, overgrown hair, he didn't see anything familiar about pathetic creature until he swung off his horse and rolled the limp body over.

"Merlin?" The king dropped to his knees, eyes wide with disbelief, completely oblivious to what was happening around him as Mordred fended off the few who had recovered quickly enough to draw weapons and move in on the two strangers.

"Merlin!" Arthur felt fear constricting his throat as his old friend's head lolled unresponsively back. He got one arm under Merlin's back and the other under his knees and swung him off the ground, unaware that he was doing exactly what Merlin had done for him ten months ago after the battle of Camlann.

"Sire!" Mordred shouted. "We have to go!"

Arthur easily slung the abnormally light body of his servant over his horse's back, drawing his sword to assist Mordred in keeping the attackers at bay as more and more of the men recovered their wits and rushed to join the attack.

"Let's move!" Arthur barked, and the two swung up into their saddles in sync, urging the horses into motion before they were even mounted.

Seconds later, they were clear of the road and forging their way swiftly back up the hill. They kept up a steady gallop until they had reached the path they'd been on earlier. Arthur stopped as soon as he spotted a good location on the side of the road for a campsite, swinging down from his bay and lowering Merlin to the ground. "Get a fire going."

Mordred obeyed wordlessly, gathering wood close by while the king examined his servant desperately. Merlin was still breathing, which was a relief, but he was in pitiable condition. He was clearly underfed; his gauntness sent another acute pang of remorse through Arthur. In addition, thanks to the beating he'd just taken and probably others before that, he was a bloody, bruised, battered mess. Under the raw flesh torn open on Merlin's torso by his most recent encounter with the whip, several layers of scars, some fresher than others, could be seen.

Furthermore, he'd received enough heavy, vicious kicks to lay low a dozen wild boar. Amid the whipmarks, his stomach, chest, back and ribs were painted with ugly purple and green splotches.

As if all these grotesque injuries weren't enough, Merlin also had a raw mark ringing his left forearm which could only be from a cuff of some sort. His face had received its share of abuse; amid the black and blue marks garnishing his jaw, forehead, cheekbones and eyes, a cut stood out across his eyebrow; every now and then it let off an occasional drop of blood which splashed off his ear into his hair.

Speaking of hair, Arthur was distracted from his servant's numerous injuries to notice that Merlin's hair couldn't have been cut in quite a while. It was shaggier than the young wizard would normally have allowed it to grow. It helped to disguise the exceptional size of Merlin's ears, Arthur reflected. But he didn't like it, and he was sure Merlin wouldn't, either.

"Sire?" With a start, the king noticed that Mordred had returned and got a fire going. Arthur had been so absorbed in his concerned examination of Merlin that he hadn't even been aware of Mordred's presence.

"Yes?"

"Maybe we should try to get some water into him. That might bring him around." The knight suggested.

The king nodded. Mordred went to retrieve his waterskin from his saddlebags. As the boy made his way over to him, Arthur said aloud, "I don't know what he's going to say."

"Sire?" Mordred sank down on one knee beside him.

"He . . ." Arthur shrugged miserably, seeming to search for a way to speak his mind, then blurted, "I'm afraid he'll hate me."

"Merlin?" Mordred was incredulous. "Hate you?"

"What I did to him – it was horrible. It was unforgivable! I can't even forgive myself; how can Merlin possibly forgive me?"

"First of all, Merlin isn't even capable of hate." The young knight commented. "He's never hated anyone; he's not going to start now."

"Granted." Arthur was forced to agree. "But what I mean is, I don't think he'll be able to forgive me for sending him away. Sending him to this," He added, indicating Merlin's myriad hurts. "I know _I_ wouldn't be able to forgive someone who I'd done so much for who did this to me."

"Fortunately for all of us, Merlin is far wiser than you." A grin flickered across Mordred's face.

That remark wrung a reluctant smile from Arthur. "True. But don't tell him I said that." The king took the waterskin from his young companion's hand. Uncorking it, he worked the mouthpiece between Merlin's lip and tipped the skin up, allowing its contents to run into the wizard's mouth.

Merlin choked, spluttering the water out. Arthur jerked the waterskin away, watching his servant anxiously.

A long moment passed.

Then Merlin's eyes fluttered open slowly. He stared unfocusedly up for several seconds before fastening onto the face hovering over him. There was another pause before a look of recognition flooded Merlin's countenance, followed by a weak smile as he rasped, "Hello, dollop-head."

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A/N: Well?! What did you think? There were so many ways I wanted Arthur to reunite with Merlin, but I decided on this one. Please review! :D


	3. Chapter 3

It was a while before Merlin had recovered sufficiently to have a discussion. At Mordred's suggestion, Arthur reluctantly allowed his servant to rest for half an hour before trying to talk to him. In the meantime Mordred provided the wizard with water and some of their provisions.

Merlin rallied enough to ravenously down everything that came within arm's reach of him. Mordred had the prudence to regulate the amount of food he gave Merlin, because stuffing himself after having been underfed for weeks would make him sick.

The king finally couldn't wait any longer. He sat down next to Merlin, who was still in the same position Arthur had put him when he was unconscious; half sitting, half laying against the mossy, craggy roots of a cypress tree.

Unsure how to begin, Arthur stared at Merlin until his servant glanced up at him with a shaky grin. "Didn't expect to be seeing you for a while."

"I shouldn't have sent you away." The king told him. "And I shouldn't have waited so long to come find you."

"I thought it'd be longer." Merlin admitted.

"I'm glad to know you have such unconditional trust in me." Arthur scoffed. The tension in the air between them dissolved at that; both felt the natural rhythm they'd used to share suddenly reestablished. Arthur had one last grave thing to say, though. "I'm sorry I did this to you, Merlin."

"It's alright." Merlin gave a sad grin. "I'm sorry for lying to you."

"You had to." Arthur dismissed the subject. "I do understand that." He transitioned to another subject. "What have you been doing with yourself? Besides getting into trouble."

"Believe it or not, I found someone to work for who's almost as much of a royal prat as you." At Arthur's aggrieved expression, Merlin immediately regretted the joke and amended quickly. "I'm kidding."

"Oh. Good." Not wishing to admit that he'd been upset by the idea, the king added, "Good servants are hard to find. Seriously, since you've been gone I've been through something like fifteen different servants. None of them are any good!"

"So you're saying I'm good?" Merlin grinned.

Arthur hesitated. "What? No. I'm saying there's a critical shortage of half-decent servants. Someone really needs to do something about it."

"What was going on back there?" Mordred interrupted their conversation.

Merlin frowned. "Back where?"

"When we found you, you were getting a very enthusiastic trouncing." Arthur told him, adding, "I couldn't have done a much better job of it myself."

"Oh." The wizard had briefly forgotten. "Well, a couple of months ago I ran across these slavers – "

"Slavers. Of course; I should have known." The king scowled.

"Long story short, I had the brilliant idea of trying to free the slaves they'd already captured." Merlin grimaced. "It didn't work out like I planned."

"They took you, too." Arthur surmised grimly. "But what was going on when we found you?"

"I got on their wrong side." He shrugged dismissively.

"Meaning what?" The king pushed.

Merlin looked at his boots almost sheepishly. "Well, a couple of them were knocking a friend of mine around."

"I see." Arthur's angry frown deepened.

"How long have you been with them?" Mordred questioned.

"Must be almost two months now." Merlin tried to sit up only to be reminded of the wide assortment of injuries he sported. Slouching back with a smothered groan, he gasped, "Who stampeded their cattle over me?"

"Don't be such a girl, Merlin." Arthur grinned. He had really missed saying that.

"Right, so what are we going to do, then?" The wizard grunted.

"We need to get back to Camelot." The king answered. "I told the knights we were coming to get you in Ealdor; we should have been back a week ago. They'll be coming looking for us if we're not back soon."

"Wait, Arthur, what about the slavers?" Merlin struggled up onto one elbow. "You're not just going to leave them be, are you?"

The thought hadn't crossed Arthur's mind; he'd been too relieved at finding Merlin to think about anything else. "I'd forgotten." He paused. "There are too many of them for us to take them on, though."

"They're headed for the border, Arthur; by the time we can get back to the castle and bring more men, they'll be in Mercia." Clenching his teeth, Merlin sat up fully.

The king scowled. "But we can't fight them, Merlin, there are too many of them!"

"There's got to be something we can do." His servant prompted.

"Maybe we could get the slaves to help us." Mordred proposed.

"No." Merlin shook his head. "They won't. Whenever the slavers capture two or more people – a family or a pair of friends or siblings or anything like that – they take one of them and keep him in the cages so the others won't try to escape."

"What cages?" Arthur frowned. "I didn't see any cages."

"No, they're hidden inside the wagons." Merlin explained. "If there's any resistance or uprising among the slaves, or if one of them escapes, the people in the cages are the ones who are punished. To protect them, their family and friends will tell the slavers if any of the slaves are going to try anything."

"So they won't help us." Mordred surmised.

"No." Merlin confirmed.

"Why don't we pick some of them off guerilla-style before we attack directly?" Arthur suggested.

"That might work." Mordred agreed. "But we're only a day and a half's travel from the border. We'd have to be pretty quick."

"Aren't you forgetting . . ." Merlin grinned as he was met with blank looks from the other two. He held his hands up. "Magic?"

Arthur scowled. "About that. You have to understand, Merlin, I can't ask you to use your magic. It would be best if you don't even tell me when you do use it. I can't punish others for using magic if I'm using it myself."

"Well, you're not using it, technically, I am." Merlin pointed out.

"You know what I mean."

"Okay. So just go ahead with whatever you plan to do to free the slaves, and I'll just make sure it goes smoothly." The wizard smirked.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Not so fast. You're in no shape to do any such thing."

Merlin tried to reply, but a small nudge in the ribs from Arthur's boot left him doubled over in pain, gripping his side. "Ow!"

"No shape." The king repeated.

"That's – I think I might have a broken rib." Merlin gritted. "Maybe more than one."

"He's not even going to be able to ride back to Camelot for a while." Mordred stated in a low voice.

"I'll be fine." Merlin disagreed. "I just need a bit of time."

"How long?" Arthur queried.

"I need an hour." The wizard told him. "And a shirt."

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How did this exchange go? I think I may need to change this part.

Please review, even if I've already posted more by the time you read this. :D


	4. Chapter 4

After Merlin had been going through the agonizing process of healing himself for a while, Arthur couldn't stand watching his servant's self-inflicted pain any longer. He wandered around to the far side of his horse, where it was a bit easier to ignore the sharp gasps and occasional cries which Merlin didn't always manage to repress, and dug through his packs for a shirt to lend the young wizard.

When Merlin had taken care of all his serious injuries, Arthur returned. "Here's a good one."

His friend raised a skeptical eyebrow. "That's way too big for me."

"Everything I have is too big for you." The king told him dryly.

"And it's . . ." Merlin took the loose-sleeved black tunic and examined it critically. "Not really my color."

"Oh, come on, Merlin. You haven't worn anything new _literally _since I met you."

"That's not true; I wear different things all the time."

"Right, they just all look the same." Arthur snorted. "It's high time you wore something new. At least for now," He added as his servant's reluctance didn't diminish. "It's not like I can magically pull one of your old outfits out of thin air."

With a shrug, Merlin pulled the tunic over his head. "This makes me look ridiculous."

"No, you do that on your own." Arthur grinned. "I do have an extra belt, if you want it."

The young wizard glanced down at the baggy, long-sleeved black tunic which now hung loosely from his shoulders. "Definitely."

As Arthur dug through his packs for said belt, Merlin rolled up his sleeves and gave himself a last check for any major injuries he'd missed. He'd decided it would be better to save his energy than heal every bruise, scar and cut, so he still looked pretty battered, but he felt much better than he had in weeks.

"Here you go." Arthur tossed the belt at his servant.

He caught it and looped it around his waist, then paused. "Uh . . . do you have one with, I don't know, more holes? Or maybe a shorter one?"

"Are you saying I'm fat, Merlin?" The king folded his arms.

"Uh, no, I'm saying your belt is made for someone much, uh, thicker than me."

"I'm not fat!" Arthur exclaimed defensively.

Mordred, trying to suppress a smile, called, "I might have one that'll fit you better, Merlin."

"Thanks." The wizard tossed the belt back to its owner.

Still irate, Arthur caught it. "I'm not fat!"

" 'Course not, sire." Merlin murmured, grinning. "You're just . . . heavy."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Muttering, the king stumped off to stuff the belt back into his packs. Mordred moved around the dying fire to hand Merlin a better-fitting one. "This should work."

"Thanks."

With a glance at Arthur, the young knight lowered his voice. "Why didn't you use magic?"

"What, to put another hole in the belt?" Merlin chortled.

"No, I mean when the slavers attacked you." Mordred was serious.

Sobering up, Merlin slid the belt buckle along to a suitable hole before answering, "When I decided to try to free them, it wasn't just me. I'd been traveling with a couple of people – a brother and sister about my age. The rest of their family was killed by magic." He paused. "So they hate magic."

"Understandably." Mordred commented.

Merlin nodded agreement as he continued, "They're my friends. I didn't want them to find out I have magic."

"They would have beaten you to death if we hadn't found you when we did." Mordred took another quick sidelong glance at Arthur. "Isn't losing a friend better than dying?"

"That depends entirely on who the friend is." Merlin shook his head. "If they're a friend, then no."

Mordred frowned, confused by the cryptic statement. With a warm grin, Merlin ended the conversation by calling to Arthur, "When are you planning to get moving, sire?"

"Now, if you two are ready." The king began stamping out the fire. "You'll have to ride with Mordred, Merlin."

"Naturally, he doesn't offer to share _his_ horse." The wizard grunted.

"What was that?" Arthur called.

Merlin smiled brightly. "I said I'd be happy to share his horse."

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A/N: This part is shorter than they usually are; that's just how it worked out. Please review! :D Special thanks to the people who take the time to write reviews as well as following/favoriting the story. You guys are awesome.

By the way, this story won't be as long as my S5 E13 rewrite. I'm expecting it to be something like nine parts, but it could be more or less. We'll see.

Also, I feel like I'm having a really hard time keeping Merlin and Arthur in character. Mordred too, but he's not as major as the other two. What do you think? I can rework it to keep them more in character if I need to.


	5. Chapter 5

The slavers must have moved out shortly after Arthur and Mordred escaped with Merlin; it was well into the afternoon by the time the riders caught up to the wagon train. They followed unnoticed at a safe distance as they debated what to do.

"We should attack the rear." Mordred proposed. The wagon train was organized in such a way that the supply wagons and those containing the cages were at the front of the parade. The slaves came behind, each shackled by one arm to a long running chain attached to the back of the last wagon. The slavers were scattered all along the column, but they were concentrated beside and behind the line of captives. "That's where most of them are concentrated; we can do most damage to them there."

"True." Arthur agreed. "But we'd also be at most risk there, since there are more of them. That wouldn't be the best way to slow them down, either." He launched into an idea of his own. "We should attack the front wagon, cut the horses loose. That'll stop them; they'll have to move the slaves in the cages in that wagon to another and get the wagon out of the way. We can pick off a few of them while we're at it."

Mordred nodded agreement; that was better than his idea. "We can get Merlin a horse, too."

"What, you don't like me sharing yours?" The wizard questioned wryly.

The young knight made a face. "It's not – ideal."

"I _could_ use a horse of my own." Merlin admitted. "But those are cart horses; they're not bred like yours are."

"That's alright." Arthur replied generously. His servant rolled his eyes. The king wouldn't be so keen to ride a classless horse himself. Oh, well. He could use magic to get it to cooperate with him.

The two knights spurred their horses into motion. Staying well out of sight, they galloped in a wide circle around the slow-moving wagon column to get into a good position ahead of them. Arthur chose a spot where they could remain hidden until the very last second on different sides of the road, taking full advantage of the element of surprise they would have. He and Mordred would fight off the slavers who were sure to run up from further along the column to deal with the unexpected attack while Merlin, with a serrated dagger the king had given him, would cut the traces on the horses pulling the wagon.

They only had a minute to wait before the slavers reached them. As the horses pulling their target passed Arthur, he nodded to Mordred; the two sprang out from opposite sides of the road, running the driver through before he knew what hit him.

The two horses kept plodding doggedly along, ignoring the shouts of surprise that rose from the other men. The slavers spread all along the column began running toward the front to engage the attackers.

Merlin's job was complicated by the fact that the horses didn't stop. Half jogging, half walking awkwardly alongside, he tried to get his knife under the closer horse's right trace, but since the full weight of the wagon was being pulled along, he couldn't manage to get the strap away from the horse's withers. Abandoning that idea, he dropped back to where the trace connected to the yoke, where he could saw at it without the horse getting in his way.

The first strap was the hardest; when that one finally broke, the horse stopped in its tracks, forcing the other to halt as well. That made cutting the remaining traces so much easier that he got through all three of them in the amount of time it had taken him to do the first.

In the meantime, Arthur and Mordred took advantage of the horses' continued motion to give ground slowly before the attacking men. They managed to hold out for a relatively long time thanks to the fact that the slavers were scattered all along the line, so they attacked one or two at a time, and though the gaps between were sometimes no more than a couple of seconds, it gave the two knights the chance to quickly put one opponent out of the fight, or at least shove him temporarily aside, before facing the next.

Be that as it may, they couldn't often dispatch one man quite as quickly as the next could reach them, and within moments both found themselves facing multiple opponents at once. When the wagon stopped, each retreated gradually along one side of it, Arthur shouting, "Merlin, hurry up!"

"Ready to go when you are!" His servant called back.

"You might have said so!" The king retorted, then shouted to Mordred, who he couldn't see on the other side of the wagon, "Break!"

They both took off running, leaving their respective fights unfinished. The slavers immediately sprinted after the trio, but Arthur and Mordred had left their horses a little ways up the road; thirty seconds later they had reached them and swung up, Mordred hauling Merlin after him. Then they were off at full speed, leaving the slavers trailing in their dusty wake.

"You didn't get a horse, Merlin!" Arthur remarked critically when they slowed down and turned off the road a few minutes later.

"No." The young wizard confirmed. "I didn't get the chance."

"It's fine." Mordred ran an affectionate hand along his mount's neck. "Anarch can carry us both."

"Anarch?" Merlin questioned.

Arthur snorted. "That's what he calls the horse. He won't ride any other."

"I don't need another." Mordred countered.

"That's what he says." The king told Merlin, as if the concept of favoring one horse over another were ludicrous.

Merlin grinned. "This may come as a shock to you, sire, but most people prefer a particular horse."

"That's ridiculous." Arthur was confident that he was in the right. "What difference does one horse make over another?"

"Well, not everyone's the king of Camelot." Merlin answered cheekily. "Most people can't afford to have twelve different horses in their own personal wing of the stable." Arthur frowned as though such a thing had never occurred to him. His servant added, still grinning, "Actually, most of your knights only have one or two horses."

"Really?" The king raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"At least that was the case last time I was there." Merlin said by way of affirmation.

"I'll have to do something about that." Arthur decided. "Remind me when we get back, Merlin."

"Yes, sire." In an undertone so that only Mordred could hear him, he added, "How in the world did he manage without me for ten months?" He didn't expect a response, of course, and none was forthcoming. Merlin glanced down at the buckskin the two of them were seated on. "He's a beautiful horse, Mordred."

"Thanks." A rare smile lit up the young knight's face. "I got him a few months ago from a trainer when I went with a delegation to Nemeth."

"They've got the best horse breeders." Merlin agreed.

"How would you know?" Arthur demanded in his usual critical manner.

His servant grimaced. "Ten years of trying not to fall asleep listening to your council meetings does that to a person."

The king ended the conversation by reining in and dismounting. "We'll stop here and plan our next move."

"Why not just do the same thing with the next wagon?" Mordred questioned. "If we keep doing that, they won't have any wagons in a bit."

"That could work." Arthur agreed. "But I noticed that a few of them have crossbows. We've already attacked them twice; if I were them I'd expect another attack and I'd have every man armed with a bow."

Mordred nodded. "So our best bet is to hit them a different way every time."

"Exactly." The king grinned approvingly as the boy followed Merlin down from Anarch. "What was your casualty count? I had two dead, three wounded."

"One dead, five wounded." Mordred dug through his packs for something to eat. "But only a couple of the five were injured seriously."

"I'd say two of my three were seriously injured." Arthur accepted the travel-biscuit offered to him by the young knight.

Catching the biscuit Mordred tossed his way, Merlin sat down at the foot of a tree with a silent sigh. The technical part of all this – how many casualties, how many were wounded sufficiently to be out of action next time around, and so forth – had always driven him crazy when he accompanied Arthur on missions in the past. That certainly hadn't changed.

"So at a guess, seven less men to contend with." Arthur surmised. "How many slavers were there originally, Merlin?"

"Thirty-one." The wizard answered, then added, "So you're down to twenty-four. Wouldn't want you to have to do the math yourself."

Ignoring the prod, Arthur nodded. "Right. I'd say we have to half that before we can engage them outright."

"Let's block the road." Merlin proposed as Mordred distributed more biscuits. "They'll have to get the wagons around it or clear it away. That'll delay them nicely."

"And we can pick a few more of the off before they're on the move again." The king nodded. "It's actually a half-decent idea, Merlin."

"Thanks." His servant adjusted his boots.

"Where will we do it?" Mordred questioned.

"Let's scout the road, see what we find." Arthur remounted his horse.

"Now?" Merlin complained, downing the last bite of his second travel-biscuit. "We haven't even had lunch yet."

"Neither have your friends back there." His friend told him shortly. "Don't be a pussy."

"There's a new one." The young wizard grinned.

"Yes, I like it too." Arthur smirked. "I think I'll keep it."

"You're just not as good at insults as I am." Merlin got up and dug a few more biscuits out of Mordred's pack. "Let's go, then, your royal blondness."

"Shut up." The king retorted. "And give me one of those."

"Would it kill you to say please?" Merlin tossed him one of the biscuits.

Arthur chose not to reply, spurring his horse into motion instead. Mordred had settled into Anarch's saddle while the two old friends were bantering; now he gave Merlin a hand and hauled him up, urging his mount after the king.

* * *

A/N: I felt like this segment worked a lot better in terms of keeping them in character. What do you think?

Also, normally I would feel like it's ridiculous for Arthur and Mordred to each kill/injure six or seven men and escape without a scratch themselves. However, both of them are wearing armor and even though in the show it has zero effectivity, in reality their chain mail and voiders and Arthur's additional armor would protect them from damage from indirect blows, even if the chain mail couldn't take a direct hit. Also, the show gives the impression that Arthur and the knights are some of the best warriors out there, and they've beaten steeper odds than this before with relatively little damage, so I decided it was okay to push what I think is realistic a bit. I can alter this if you all think it's too unreal. Please let me know. :)

And as always, please review! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Reaching the road at a point a ways ahead of the bandits, who hadn't yet finished moving the slaves from the useless cart to one of the others and getting the wagon out of the way, the trio cantered further along until they found a spot that would suit their purpose.

Here, the terrain around the road sloped more steeply than usual; when the road was made, the ground had to be cut away along a stretch, leaving a cliff almost twice Arthur's height along the right side of the road. On the left, the land fell away at an incline which, even had it not been peppered with trees, was too steep for the wagons to navigate. If the road were blocked, the slavers' only option would be to clear away the obstruction before they could continue.

"The only problem," Arthur commented as the trio viewed their chosen spot from the top of the small cliff, "is what to block it with."

"We could drop a tree across it." Mordred proposed.

Arthur shook his head. "We only have the three of us and an hour at the very most; anything we could manage to cut down would be too small to stop them for long."

"Hmm." Mordred agreed thoughtfully. "_Is _there anything the three of us can set up that'll take them more than a few minutes to move?"

Merlin dismounted from where he rode behind Mordred, listening as the pair puzzled the matter back and forth, suggesting ideas and immediately dismissing them. He made his way to a spot a few meters further along the cliff and murmured a few quiet words. With a flash of his eyes, he broke off a segment of the cliff itself and allowed it to tumble down and smash into several huge chunks that spilled across the roadway.

Arthur and Mordred both spun their horses toward him, looking alarmed. Realizing what had happened, the king exclaimed in frustration, "_Mer_lin!"

"What?" He held his hands out defensively. "It blocks the road, doesn't it?"

"I can't have you using magic right before my eyes all the time!" Arthur told him irately.

"Not all the time." Merlin promised. "Just this once."

"It does do the job perfectly, sire." Mordred pointed out. "Those stones are far too big to move easily." He paused, considering. "It'll take several men to so much as budge one of them. And the shape they're in, all flat-sided and bottom-heavy, will keep them from rolling down the hill if they're pushed off the road."

Arthur shrugged; Merlin could tell he wasn't irritated any more, but still wanted to look like he was. "Fine. This once. Don't do it again, Merlin."

"Yes, sire." The young wizard nodded dutifully. _Riiight, _he wouldn't use magic again. Arthur was even more of a dollophead if he believed that.

"Let's attack off this cliff." Arthur decided. "We'll hit the middle of their line, then run down the hill."

"Should we put our horses down there, then?" Mordred asked.

"We'd better, in case they chase us." The king agreed. "And we'll have to take measures to make sure one of us doesn't get an arrow in the back before we reach the horses."

Merlin thought it best not to mention that he wouldn't let that happen. The two knights took their shields from where they hung on their horses' left and slung them over their shoulders, protecting most of their backs by doing so.

As they moved along the cliff to a point where they could lead their horses down, Arthur commented, "It could take them hours to get around this. We may have the chance to hit them more than once."

"Maybe we'll be able to pick off enough of them to engage them directly." Mordred agreed. From behind him, the wizard rolled his eyes. If Arthur wasn't such a stubborn mule, he could just use magic and get the job done a lot faster.

They left their horses just out of sight down the hill and then trekked back up to conceal themselves on the clifftop above the road a distance ahead of where the rockfall blocked it. It was Arthur's estimate that this was the point where the middle of the wagon train would stop.

The king went off to scout back down the path and see how far off the slavers were. Mordred and Merlin remained in hiding, both sitting with their backs to a towering beech tree.

After a few minutes, Mordred asked, "How long have you been with your friends – the brother and sister?"

His companion turned his head to glance at him. "We traveled together for a few weeks before we ran in with the slavers. My friends' names are Kay and Katera." He added. "Kay is probably about my age, maybe a bit younger than me; Terra is a year or two older than him."

The young knight nodded. "Hm."

"What about you?" Merlin questioned. "What have you been up to while I've been away?"

"I spent a few months focusing on settling in with the knights." He shrugged. "They were quicker to accept me back than I was to accept that they'd accepted me." As Merlin grinned wryly, he continued, "Other than that, it's just life as usual at Camelot. Except that you're not there."

"There's nothing usual about life at Camelot when I'm there." The young wizard smiled.

"What I mean is that everyone misses you." Mordred amended. "Arthur most of all. It's like a part of him is missing when you're not there."

"The half can't truly hate that which makes it whole." Merlin recalled something the dragon had told him years ago.

Puzzled by this, Mordred nonetheless continued, "The queen missed you too. Partly because Arthur was so depressed sometimes without you around, but also because you're such a close friend to her. And Gaius – the poor old man needs you as much as Arthur does. Even the knights – Gwaine especially. You should see him. He hasn't had anybody to be ridiculous with for ten months."

"Are you saying _I_'m ridiculous?" Merlin queried with a grin.

Arthur returned just then, precluding whatever Mordred's response might have been. He crouched behind the cover of a shrub a few steps from them, saying, "They're only a moment away."

* * *

A/N: sorry for the delay getting this out. I may not update quite as fast as I have been; my life is crazy and I'm busy. Which brings me to something else I wanted to mention; I plan to finish a full season, and maybe write another after that, but I'm not promising that I'll get that far. If I just don't have time or lose interest in this or anything, I'll put it on a back burner for as long as I need to. That said, I'm really hoping that won't happen. :)


	7. Chapter 7

A moment turned out to be more like ten minutes; when the wagon train finally plodded into sight through the gathering dark, Merlin had had just finished braiding several blades of grass into one long strand.

"There they are!" Arthur warned in a low voice, pulling the braid out of his friend's hand and tossing it aside. "Pay attention, Merlin!"

As the driver of the foremost wagon noticed the roadblock and called a halt, the four straight-sided, flat-topped wagons and the string of slaves lumbered to a standstill below them. Arthur had accurately judged where the middle of the column would be; they were positioned almost directly above the gap between the last two wagons.

Most of the slavers, several of them armed with crossbows, jogged up toward the front to see what was going on. The king nudged Mordred. "We need to be positioned between this third wagon and the cliff wall; you face the rear, I'll face the front. That way they can only come at us from those two directions – we'll be able to hold out longer and do them more damage."

"What will we do if we need to escape?" The young knight questioned dubiously.

Arthur frowned; he hadn't thought of that. He was hoping they'd be able to inflict enough casualties that they'd be able to finish the job and drive the remaining slavers off instead of being chased away themselves. But if things didn't go as well as he was hoping, his plan would leave them trapped between the wagon, the cliff, and all the slavers crowding in on them from the two open ends.

"Go under the wagon." Merlin proposed. "We can roll out the other side and run down the hill."

Mordred nodded. "That could work."

"Maybe." Arthur agreed, edging forward on his stomach to look over the short cliff as he told the others, "We'll jump to the top of the wagon, then down on the far side, then get around to the near side before they can overrun us. Merlin, I need you to stay on top of the wagon and be our eyes, because we won't be able to see anything but what's in front of us."

His servant nodded. As the three of them backed away from the edge of the cliff, preparing to run and jump to the flat roof of the cart, Merlin warned, "The wagon canopy is stretched over the cages, so we're going to be landing on canvas over horizontal bars about four inches apart. Be careful not to throw your ankles out."

Arthur nodded and rushed toward the edge, Mordred close behind. Merlin waited until the two of them had landed on the wagon and leaped off the far side, out of sight, before he himself jumped.

He came down lightly on hands and feet, knees drawn up under him, square in the center of the roof. Staying low so as to avoid drawing attention to himself, he leaned forward to watch his friends gracefully dispatch the two slavers who had been on the far side of the wagon, then split up to dash around to the other side; Mordred, circling the rear of the wagon, had to take out another couple of men who had been running toward the front of the column. Arthur had further to go, as he had to get around the horses, so they reached the space between the side of the wagon and the cliff wall at the same time and spun around to confront anyone chasing them.

Shouts from the slavers who'd noticed the knights' arrival quickly alerted the entire band to their presence, and the men who had flocked to the front began streaming back toward them, brandishing an array of weapons. Merlin watched those with crossbows; as one let off an arrow, he twisted its flight so that it thudded into the back of another slaver instead of wounding Arthur.

That was three men dead already, the dark-clad boy thought, and two seriously injured. Then it occurred to him that he was already taking note of the exact numbers, the way the knights usually did, which always exasperated him. Well, he supposed someone had to keep track, and since neither Arthur nor Mordred could see how many men the other took out, it made most sense for Merlin to do it.

Arthur was already felling another slaver and knocking him to the side as he fell so he wouldn't get in the way. The young wizard flinched as Mordred's blade took three fingers off a man's unarmored sword hand, then kicked him back into the two men behind him.

More men armed with crossbows were reaching the scene of the fight now; Merlin focused his attention on them. A flash of the wizard's eyes sent one tumbling headlong, apparently having tripped over his own feet – he bashed his head on his weapon and went still, out for the count. A second man's bow seemed to fire of its own accord, putting an arrow through the next man's knee.

Another slaver got an arrow off before Merlin had the chance to stop him; the wizard managed to turn the missile aside in mid-flight so that it hissed over Arthur's shoulder rather than taking him through the neck, then ricocheted off the cliff and struck a man waiting for a chance to get at Mordred.

One of the two crossbow-wielders still on his feet was taking aim at Arthur; Merlin used his magic to speed up his perception, which seemed to slow down everything happening around him so that he had time to act as the slaver pulled the release. Merlin spun the man around so that his arrow took the other archer through the chest.

The slaver whose crossbow had shot a man in the leg apparently of its own volition was reloading his weapon, pressing back against the cliff so he was out of the others' way. Merlin flashed a glance at the clifftop and a chunk of stone detached itself, smashing down without warning on the archer's head and killing him instantaneously.

By now the death count was at eight, including Arthur and Mordred's kills, and several more were wounded. Merlin subtly channeled a flash of magic toward one of the bodies Arthur had shoved aside; its leg shifted out, tripping an oncoming attacker so that he fell directly onto the king's blade. Nine.

Another crossbowman let off an arrow; the wizard steered it past both his friends and into the shoulder of a husky, spear-wielding slaver coming at Mordred. The man dropped his weapon and reeled to his knees, where the young knight quickly dispatched him. Ten.

So how many were still in the fight? Merlin took a quick count. There were at most eight uninjured slavers, and an additional three or so who were wounded but still attacking. He grinned; no warrior in all the five kingdoms was as lethal as a knight of Camelot – even Mordred, who wasn't even twenty years old, was more than capable of holding his own against odds like these.

Tearing the crossbow from a last archer's hands, Merlin sent it hurtling sideways to smash against the cliff. In mid-fight, Arthur finally noticed the inexplicable occurrence and connected it to the wizard. "_Mer_lin!"

"Sorry!" His servant called down. "Habit!"

"We really need to talk about this, Merlin!" The king shouted, planting a boot against his opponent's chest and shoving him forcefully backward.

"We really do!" The younger of the two agreed. He wasn't entirely sure why Arthur was still opposed to Merlin using magic. He'd get an explanation for this out of his friend when he had time.

For now, though, he had another purpose in mind; with the dagger Arthur had given him earlier, he began to cut away the canopy over the cages, slicing one long tear down the middle of the wagon roof, then pulling on the heavy material until the tear continued down the canvas covering the front of the wagon. He did the same at the back of the wagon, kicking away one enterprising slaver who tried to climb up and attack him, then pushed the canvas off.

"Merlin?" A filthy hand gripped one of the roof bars close by.

The young wizard, now moving around atop the cages with less ease thanks to the loss of the supporting canvas, clambered over to the hand and peered down at the cage's occupant. "Kay!"

"What's going on?" The young man's fingers were unsteady.

"Hang on." Spotting one slaver trying to creep out from below the wagon to get at an oblivious Arthur or Mordred from behind, Merlin vaulted off the roof and came down feet-first on the would-be attacker's exposed back. Alerted to the man's presence, Arthur whipped around and ran him through when he had a moment's pause between opponents. His servant stayed in his crouched position, calling as the king turned back around to protect himself from the next assailant, "They're just about finished!"

Arthur didn't reply, but Merlin was sure he'd heard. The slavers, who had moments ago been crowding in densely on the two knights, were now attacking in conspicuously smaller numbers. Arthur and Mordred had initially been hard-pressed, having to give ground back toward each other, but both had pushed forward again, leaving plenty of space between them for Merlin to stay crouched there, his eyes still peeled for any unexpected attacks that might get through one of the knights' guard.

One more man fell and another reeled back, clutching at his bloody ear. Like water running off someone who'd just risen to the surface, the remaining ten-odd slavers suddenly broke, abandoning any remaining chance they might have had left of defeating the knights, and scattered into the woods.

* * *

A/N: sorry for the delay getting this up. I'm trying to get the next one done quicker. Please review! :D


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, that was easy." Arthur sheathed his sword and pulled off one gauntlet to wipe away a bead of blood gathering from his nose, which had been hit by a swordhilt early on in the fight.

"Help me open these." Merlin circled to the back of the wagon to tug at the bolted door of one of the cages. There were twelve in each wagon; they were about one meter long and one and a half wide and high. Two rows of three cages filled the wagon, but another six were stacked atop them. There was a decrepit human crouched in each one, staring with hollow eyes at the three strangers.

"I can't believe they did this." Panting as he leaned against the cliff, Mordred stared, appalled, at the animal-like occupants of the cages. "How could they do this?"

"That's why you left Morgana." Merlin told the young knight seriously, trying to force one of the bolts open with his dagger. "You don't understand evil."

"Thanks for that bit of philosophy, Merlin." Arthur shouldered his servant out of the way to get a clear swing at the bolt. "Stand back."

The old slave inside the cage flinched against the back wall as the king's blade flashed down and shore the bolt clean off. Arthur moved to the next cage, leaving Merlin to open the door and lead the old man out.

While his friend freed the slaves in the cages, the wizard cast about among the bodies until he found the carcass of the slavers' leader. Removing the key from where it hung at the man's belt, Merlin made his way to where almost forty slaves were cuffed to the long running chain attached to the last wagon in the column. During the fight, they had huddled into a tight-knit knot as far from the combat as the chain would allow them to go.

"Merlin?" Several of them were watching him; his inclination to help others had made him a lot of acquaintances among the slaves during the two or so months he'd been one of them.

He singled out one of them, a disheveled girl about his own age, and pulled her away from the rest. The loop attached to her wrist cuff slid up the chain as she moved. He wrestled the key into the lock of her cuff and it came loose with a reluctant click.

Pressing the key into her hand, he jerked his chin at the others. "Unlock them."

"Merlin – " She began.

He cut her off reassuringly. "I'll let Kay out."

She nodded. Not waiting to make sure she would free the rest, he returned to Arthur, who was opening the cages stacked on top of the first six he'd opened.

Mordred was still stooped against the cliff, and for the first time Merlin noticed that the adolescent knight was digging one hand into the side of his ribcage and seemed to be having difficulty breathing.

"Mordred? Are you alright?" The wizard eyed him anxiously. The boy was glaring fiercely at the ground – repressing his pain, Merlin realized – and he didn't look up as he shook his head briefly.

"What's wrong?" Arthur stopped forcing cages open, staring in concern at his young vassal.

"He's wounded." The wizard relieved Mordred of his sword, which he was still gripping rigidly in his right hand. The knight slid down into a sitting position, knees drawn up in front of him, still clenching his hand against his injury. Merlin glanced at Arthur. "Let the rest of them out. I'll tell you if you can help."

Still worried, the king returned to the wagon to open the other cages. There had originally been three wagons containing cages, but their previous attack, when they'd cut the horses loose, had rendered one of the wagons useless, so the twelve slaves who'd been in those cages had been moved into the others; several cages had two occupants.

Merlin eased Mordred's hand against his side. "What happened?"

"One of them got through my guard." The young knight leaned his head back, pressing it against the stone behind him.

The wizard frowned. That couldn't have happened during the last minute or two of the scrap, when he'd been looking out for such an occurrence. It must have been in the middle of the fight while he was focusing on the bowmen and tearing the canvas off the cages. "You were fighting like this."

"Yeah . . ." The boy nodded, clearly not thinking that fact was impressive.

Merlin was trying to get a good look at the injury, but the hole that had been torn in Mordred's chain mail wasn't large enough for him to see anything through. "I need you to take this off."

Between the two of them, they got the mail overcoat off. Mordred's heavy red undercoat had a rip in it, too, and Merlin could see blood seeping through. They got that off him as well; beneath it, a dark stain had spread down the side of the boy's gray undershirt. Merlin tore the tunic open from the ragged gap that had been split by the sword. He cleared away the blood as gently as he could; the sharp gasps Mordred tried to stifle every time Merlin's hands put any amount of pressure on his side suggested that he might have a damaged rib.

Finally getting a good look at the injury, Merlin realized it wasn't as deep as he'd expected it to be, despite the profuse blood loss; the blade had been turned aside by a rib, preventing any serious damage. The extreme pain the young knight was in was thanks to the rib that had taken the force of the blow; Merlin could tell it was broken even with no more than a brief examination.

"You've just got a broken rib." The wizard reassured Mordred. "Nothing that won't heal quickly." He glanced over his shoulder to see what Arthur was doing; the king had moved off to break the slaves out of the cages in another wagon. Merlin glanced back down. "I'm going to use magic, alright?"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Mordred ground the words out through clenched teeth. "Arthur's still edgy about it."

"I'll just use it for the rib." Merlin responded in a low voice. "I'll take care of the injury normally."

The boy was going to protest, but changed his mind abruptly as Merlin unintentionally let a fraction of his weight settle against the hand he was holding against Mordred's side, sending shockwaves of white-hot agony lancing through the young knight's body. Mordred stiffened, slamming his head and shoulders back against the cliff, but his voice was rigidly controlled as he said, "Then you'd better do it quickly before Arthur finishes opening the cages."

Merlin leaned closer, careful not to apply pressure to the boy's side again, and murmured a long string of incoherent words. As he finished, Mordred took in a sharp gasp, visibly relaxing. "Ow."

"Better?" Merlin concealed his satisfaction. The injury didn't look any different from the exterior, but with the rib properly knit, Mordred was in considerably less pain than he'd been in a second ago. With another covert glance at Arthur, Merlin finished off the wide tear he'd started in Mordred's undershirt, ripping a long strip of material out of the front of it and folding it up into a hand-sized wad. "Press this down on it to stop the bleeding. I'll be right back."

The young knight nodded and did as he was told. Merlin rose from his crouched position and turned toward the slaves who Arthur had released from the nearest wagon. His eyes sought one out immediately among the rest; a young man about Merlin's own age. He was filthy, gaunt, dilapidated, like all the others; what made him stand out was the patch he wore over his left eye.

"Kay." Merlin grinned at him, relieved. "Are you alright?"

He nodded. "Where's Terra?"

"She's fine." The wizard assured him.

"Where is she?" He repeated insistently.

"On the chain." Merlin used the phrase the slaves had come up with among themselves to say that someone was cuffed to the running chain attached to the back of the last wagon. "Well, she's actually not on it any more. She has the keys and she's freeing the rest."

He stayed close as Kay made his way past the rearmost wagon to find his sister amid the flock of freed slaves behind it. Katera had finished releasing the others; they were all standing around uncertainly, not sure what to do next. She spotted her brother before he'd picked her out and shouldered her way through the rest toward him. Merlin smiled in immense approval as the only friends he'd had in almost a year reunited.

Arthur had finished opening the cages and was now kneeling beside Mordred. "Merlin!"

"What?" His servant picked his way across the scattered slavers' bodies.

"Were you going to take care of Mordred one of these days?" The king questioned testily.

"I did." Merlin crouched on the other side of the young knight. "I mean, I started to. I was having him stop the bleeding . . ." He left the sentence hanging as he removed the pad of cloth Mordred had been pressing over the injury and did a quick assessment. "I could really use medical supplies."

"Don't have any." Arthur shook his head.

Merlin shrugged. "Well, I can bandage it up to keep it clean till he can get back to Gaius and get it treated properly."

"Alright." The king got back to his feet. "I'd better do something with all these people."

"They all have homes and families to go back to." Merlin told him, tearing the remainder of Mordred's undershirt into a few long strips. "If you give them enough of the slavers' supplies to get them back home, they'll all be happy to go their separate ways."

Arthur looked a bit surprised that his servant thought it would be that easy to see that all the ex-slaves were taken care of. A thought crossed Merlin's mind and he added, "Except my friends Kay and Terra. They don't have a home; they just go from town to town."

"They can come back with us if they'd like to." Arthur offered.

"That's what I was thinking." The wizard agreed, beginning to bandage Mordred's injury with the pieces of his tunic. "Kay is really very good with horses; I thought you might hire him to be your stable boy. Assuming you haven't found a permanent replacement for Tyr Seward yet."

"I haven't." Arthur grinned wryly. "None of the ones I've hired so far stayed on the job very long."

"Kay will." Merlin assured him. "For an income and a house for him and Terra, he'll do just about anything – even put up with _you_."

"If he's put up with _you_ for this long, _I_'ll be a piece of cake." Arthur retorted.

The younger of the two smiled. "So you'll hire him?"

"If he's up for the job." The king confirmed.

"There he is; ask him." Merlin indicated Kay and Katera, who were making their way through the carnage toward them. As the two came closer, he called, "Kay, Terra – this is Arthur and Mordred."

"Arthur?" The girl repeated. "As in . . . ?"

"King Arthur." He confirmed.

The brother and sister were immediately in awe. Merlin snorted good-humoredly as they bowed. "Don't bother; he's not really that important."

"What brings you to these parts, sire?" Kay asked. At his respectful tone, Merlin had to suppress a snicker.

Arthur jerked his head at Merlin. "Looking for my lazy excuse for a servant."

"You mean Merlin?" Kay's one eye glanced incredulously at the black-clad wizard.

"You didn't tell us you're the king's servant!" Katera gaped.

"What'd he do? Run away?" Her brother questioned. There was a bit of a defensive note to his voice now. "Is that why you're looking for him?"

Merlin hid a smile. "No, Kay, nothing like that."

"He went to visit his mother and he didn't come back." Since Merlin didn't know the story Arthur had given the knights concerning his whereabouts, the king took advantage of the chance to notify his friend of what everyone else thought had happened, explaining the situation to Kay at the same time. "Mordred and I came to find him."

"Arthur wants to hire you." Merlin announced helpfully.

Kay looked startled at this sudden turn in the conversation. "Hire me?"

"I'm in need of a good stable hand." The king confirmed. "Merlin says you're good with horses. If you take the job I'll also provide you with a house in Camelot."

The young man glanced uncertainly from one to the other. Merlin grinned. "Say yes."

"Well . . . yes, I suppose." He nodded. "If you're sure . . ."

"Of course he's sure." Merlin put in. "It'll be great to have you two around."

* * *

A/N: sorry my updates are slowing down. This episode is almost done, hopefully I'll get through the next one quicker. Please review! :D


	9. Chapter 9

"Where are the knights?" Merlin glanced around curiously; they had almost reached Gaius' chambers and as of yet, none of Arthur's inner circle of knights had made an appearance. "Gwaine and Percival and Leon, I mean."

"They had to go to evaluate the garrison in Torrine." Gwen told him. "They'll be back this evening."

As they reached Gaius' door, Arthur stopped. "I'll have to leave you now; I have two weeks' business to catch up on." He was gone before Merlin could say anything.

The other two paused outside the door. Merlin leaned his shoulder against the wall; the two days' ride it had taken to get here had spent the meager energy he'd gathered after escaping the slavers. Gwen watched him, concerned. "Are you alright?"

He shrugged. "Just tired out."

Her eyes traced the fading bruises and cuts on his face, but all she said was, "I'm glad you're back."

"Oh, so am I." His agreement was so heartfelt and profound that for a second, he felt the sting of threatening tears beneath his eyelids. He paused to force them down, then continued, "Thank you for sending Arthur to find me."

"I should have told him to go sooner." She looked down at floor between them. "He would have come to find you sooner if I had said something before I did."

"It's alright." Merlin gave a small smile. "I'm just happy to be home. And you! You're . . ." He glanced expressively at her swelling stomach. "You and Arthur, you're parents now!"

"Well, we will be soon." She glowed. "And you'll have to be the godfather, of course."

"Who'll be the godmother?" He enquired.

Her eyes flickered uncertainly. "We haven't decided. My only close friend – female friend, that is – was Morgana. Arthur has no close female relatives. My maidservant isn't my friend like you are Arthur's."

"Oh, speaking of that." He interrupted her. "I mentioned the friends I'd been traveling with before we came across the slavers. One of them is a girl about our age – your age and mine, I mean. If you need a new maidservant any time soon, I think she'd be glad of the opportunity."

"By all means." Gwen smiled. "Tell your friend I'd be glad of her service."

"I will." He nodded.

Noticing his glance toward the door, she ended the conversation. "I'll let you go to Gaius. He's really missed you, by the way. And Arthur has, too." She reached up to fold her arms around his shoulders, and for a moment he returned the hug. Then she turned and started down the hallway. He lifted the latch and pushed the door gently inward.

Gaius was sitting on the bench at his table, absorbed in the pages of a voluminous tome. He didn't look up as the boy entered, only murmuring absently, "Yes, what is it?"

"Gaius." Merlin spoke softly.

The old man glanced up, then stopped short, staring. "Merlin!"

The boy was about to say something, but his throat constricted painfully, cutting off his breath. He moved forward as his mentor rose from the table and they gripped each other in a long embrace.

Merlin was the one to pull back, mastering his emotions and clearing the hard knot in his throat. "Mordred will be along in a moment; he was injured."

"It looks like you haven't had it easy, either." Gaius commented, looking him over. "You're even skinnier than usual."

"Thanks." He grumbled.

"And you're bruised and knocked up." The physician added, indicating his injuries with a general sweeping gesture. "What happened to you?"

"I found a band of slavers." He gave a small grin. "And I was sort of bored, so . . ."

Gaius' frown deepened. "Well, get your shirt off, I'll bandage you up."

"I already took care of the serious injuries." Merlin shook his head. "I _do_ want to get this shirt off, though. It's big and black and Arthur's . . . Are all my clothes and everything still up there?" He jerked his head at the door to his old room.

"Yes, I haven't moved any of your things." The old healer confirmed. "You left behind at least one change of clothes."

"Well, I'll go put them on, then."

He started toward the stairs, but the door rattled open suddenly and a footman hurried in, Mordred's arm over his shoulder. The young knight didn't look like he needed the support, though; he was keeping up, grumbling, "It's not that bad. You don't need to carry me."

Hiding a smile, Merlin turned and loped up his stairs, banging his door open loudly and letting it swing shut behind him. For a full minute he just stood there, letting the familiar smell and air of the room soak into him.

It was good to be home.

* * *

A/N: I know this looks like the end of the episode, but it's not! There's one more chapter coming, then it's on to episode 2! Please take the time to review, even if you don't have much to say and/or I've already posted the next chapter. There's nothing more rewarding for a fanfic author than reviews. :)


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur pushed his door open, stepped through and closed it again. Rolling his head to ease the tenseness in his neck muscles – he'd been dealing with paperwork all day since he'd gotten back – he unclasped his cloak and let it drop to the floor behind him, followed by his ceremonial sword and belt as he crossed the room toward his bed to sit down and pull his boots off.

A soft step fell behind him and he turned abruptly. He hadn't noticed Merlin when he first came in; his friend was stooping to pick up the king's cloak up. Arthur scowled, seeming puzzled. "Merlin?"

"Yes?" His servant glanced up.

"What are you . . ." He watched the younger man bend over to pick up his swordbelt. Somehow Arthur hadn't expected Merlin to want to resume his old duties as an underappreciated, insignificant manservant.

There was a long silence. The king stood where he was until Merlin stopped cleaning up his mess and turned to meet his eyes. "Merlin . . . do you still want to be, you know, my servant?"

The younger of the two had been expecting directly the opposite of what Arthur had; for almost a year he'd been looking forward to returning to Camelot and carrying on the responsibilities he'd had for nearly ten years, just as if he'd never left. "I . . . of course I do. I thought that was the point."

"The point of what?" Arthur frowned.

"I thought you brought me back because you were ready to trust me as your servant again." Merlin hung the cloak and swordbelt over the back of one of the chairs, feeling apprehension clench in his stomach.

"No, you don't understand." The king shook his head. "I do trust you – I trust you absolutely. But I thought . . . I mean, Camelot owes you so much, Merlin – I owe you so much . . . I'd consider it my sacred duty to give you anything in the world you wanted. You don't have to be unnoticed; you can be anything you want. If you asked for a kingdom of your own, I'd consider it my duty to give it to you." He paused, frustrated at his clumsy conveyance of what he meant. "You could be my chief advisor or something grand like that. Anything you want. Name it."

"Sire." Merlin's grin lit the room up. "You don't understand. All I want is for things to be like they were. I don't need land or power or any of that." As if it were an afterthought, he added, "I want to stay your servant."

A long pause hung between them.

Then Arthur gave a dry smile. "Well, that's good, because I went through at least fifteen servants while you were away."

"You already told me that." Merlin mumbled, but the king either didn't hear or ignored him.

"I thought _you_ were bad. I mean, you _are_ a miserable excuse for a servant." He amended quickly. "But the ones I tried out while you were gone were even worse!" He emphasized those last words as if the sheer impossibility of a servant being even worse than Merlin was mind-blowing.

"Thanks." The wizard rolled his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, aware of the sincere warmth flowing between them.

"You didn't tell me Gwen was expecting." For once it was Merlin who changed the subject.

"I was a bit busy between saving your worthless backside and almost singlehandedly defeating a huge band of slave traders." Arthur commented. "My wife's pregnancy didn't happen to come up."

Merlin made an incredulous face at the king's claim to nearly all the credit. "Hold on, now. There wasn't anything almost singlehanded about it. You couldn't have even had a chance at defeating them without Mordred."

For a second, he thought Arthur was going to get serious again and say something like, "We couldn't have defeated them without you, either."

But the king wasn't about to grant his old friend any such compliment. "Yes, Mordred was definitely a tremendous help to saving your lazy backside."

"Who are we calling lazy, here?" Merlin challenged. "You must have fired your last manservant at least a month before you left to find me."

"I fired him the morning of the day I left, actually." Arthur countered.

That was the opportunity Merlin had been looking for. "Really? Sire, I'm impressed – really, I am. For one man to make this much mess in a single day – I didn't know it was even possible."

Arthur was ready with a comeback. "You know, you're right; this room is an absolute mess. It looks like a tornado came through."

"Or a stampede of rabid apes." Merlin suggested.

The king carried on, getting to his point. "This horrible mess of a room needs to be cleaned up _right away_."

His servant's irrepressible smile wavered. "It'll take hours to straighten this place up."

"Well, then, you'd better hurry." Arthur remarked. "Because after that I need you to polish my armor, sharpen my sword, clean my boots, launder my clothes – especially that shirt I lent you; I want that washed three times before I wear it again. Oh, and I want you to serve Guinevere and I dinner in one hour."

Merlin's jaw flapped. "What happened to giving me anything in the world I wanted?"

"You said you wanted to be my servant." The king grinned cheerfully. "I'm doing my best to grant your wish."

"Yes, you certainly know how to make someone happy." The young wizard muttered.

"Merlin." Arthur sobered. "We need to talk about your magic. I believe that at least in your case, it's not evil. But I'm still not sure you're not just an exception to the rule."

"Sire, I've known so many people who used magic for good, as I do." Merlin began.

The king cut him off by continuing, "I'm open to the possibility that I may be wrong. The people are not so easy to sway, though. After what Morgana has inflicted on them, the people of Camelot have been hungrier than ever before for the blood of sorcerers. If I were to openly support magic, there is every chance that they would rebel."

This was met by a heavy silence from Merlin. Having spent months roaming from one town to another, he knew just how true this statement was; the people hated magic with a passion.

"I have already done what I can to ease the laws repressing magic." Arthur explained. "I still feel that some of them are unjust, but I'm trying to gradually cut back the punishments on those with magic. I may eventually eliminate all the laws against magic, so long as it isn't used for evil, but until then you need to hide your powers. I can't punish sorcerers while harboring one in my own home."

"Sire, I can't just stop using magic." Merlin told him quietly.

"I know." Arthur nodded. "I'm not asking you to never use it again. What I'm asking is that you use it as little as possible. And when you do use it, I don't want to know about it."

Merlin shifted discontentedly, but he understood Arthur's reasoning, even agreed with it. For now, until magic was accepted once more, it was best that nobody know the king's closest friend was one of the people his laws condemned. Arthur was a good man, Merlin knew; he _would_ change the laws oppressing those with magic, but he would do it bit by bit, changing the hearts of the people of Camelot little by little as he went.

One thing weighed on his mind, though. "What about the knights? I mean, you, Gwen, Gaius and Mordred are the only people who know."

"I think it should remain that way." Arthur folded his arms. "At least for now. To be honest, they are just as averse to magic as the rest of the people. Even after you saved us at the Battle of Camlann, and after than when the Saxons had captured Gwaine and Percival and I, they still have no love for that old sorcerer you turned into. What is his name, anyway? Isn't it Dragoon or something?"

"Dragoon the Great." Merlin grinned. "That's the name I used the first time I disguised myself as him, when I saved Gwen from charges of enchanting you."

"I remember." Arthur nodded.

"That's not really the name, though." His servant commented. "It's still me; the old Merlin isn't a different person."

"Well, that's the name we all think of old-you by. But the point is, the knights hate magic. And honestly, I don't want them to know that I am intentionally ignoring the law and allowing a wizard to practice magic right here in the castle."

Merlin nodded understandingly. "We'll keep it to Gaius, Gwen, Mordred, you and I, then." He paused, reflecting. "That's only five, but it seems like so many people know my secret. For so long it's been just Gaius and I." The thought that of the five of them, three had magic, if you counted the Mordred's, which he didn't use, and Gaius', which he didn't remember much of.

The silence between them stretched away for a long moment.

Arthur broke it suddenly by stating, "Well, now you've only got fifty minutes until Guinevere's and my dinner, and this room needs to be in perfect order by then, so if I were you I'd really get a move on."

Heaving a huge sigh of mixed annoyance and contentment, Merlin picked up the cloak and swordbelt he'd draped over the chair and headed for the wardrobe.

"And Merlin – don't forget my armor. And my boots. And my sword. And my laundry. And actually, I think the floor needs to be cleaned. And the windows haven't been washed in weeks . . ."

* * *

A/N: Please review! What did you think (of this particular segment and the story overall)? I'm going to post the link here when I get episode 2 up, so anyone following this story will know when the next installment in the series is out. :)


	11. Chapter the Last

Hey, guys! Thanks for reading this far! I'm hoping if you've read up to this point you've also read my season 5 episode 13 rewrite (if you haven't, please do!). This is the first installment of my season 6; there are going to be 12 or 13 of them all together, assuming I get that far. Here's a link to S6 episode 2 (just replace the commas with periods to make it work):

www,fanfiction,net/s/10636116/1/

Please read! :D


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